Little Flame
by AbsoluteAnarchy
Summary: Sasori is a young student. He is pessimistic, stubborn, and complex. To him, the world is cruel; people value what they see with their eyes, not what they feel with their hearts. But perhaps he'll learn that not all are like that. A certain blond "player" will aim to bypass his walls, one by one. After all, how cold can this little flame be? WARNING: DeiSaso & others. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, Akatsuki or any of the characters/concepts featured. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.**

* * *

Everyone has a very peculiar friend.

Sai was that friend.

He sat across from Sasori, his face set in a smile. He didn't speak, and he didn't move.

The two boys were currently taking the bus home together and, even though Sasori had known Sai since the very first day of school, he still found that expression unnerving. Sai had never been the best at social interaction. His true feelings were never obvious.

'You shouldn't listen to them,' he said, suddenly, moving to adjust the lapel of his blazer. 'They have no idea what they're talking about.'

Sasori stared at him for a moment. Then he gave the hood of his jacket another anxious tug forward, ensuring that his face could not be seen. It was his shroud, and the one thing that kept him hidden in public. He knew exactly what Sai was talking about. 'You don't understand,' he muttered.

'Yes, I do,' said Sai. 'I have eyes; you're most certainly not ugly, Sasori. Have more confidence.'

Sasori shifted uncomfortably and averted his gaze. That statement made him seem like an insecure teenage girl. His cheeks burned with shame. 'Then why do so many people tell me otherwise?' he asked.

'Young people are cruel,' answered Sai, simply, and his tone put an end to any further discussion.

Sasori sighed and turned to look out of the window. The buildings of his neighbourhood rushed by, dull and grey, whilst the sun set behind them. The sky was a lovely mixture of yellow, and red, and the darkest of purples. Light streamed through the gaps between the houses, bathing the bus compartments in an orange glow.

But even as the warmth hit his cheeks, still Sasori did not smile.

He knew Sai was trying to help, but he also knew that his opinion would never be swayed.

He _was_ ugly.

At the very least, he was unattractive enough for people to constantly point it out. Whether those people were of a good or bad nature was irrelevant. They were simply telling him a truth that he himself had known for a long, long time. It was something to be accepted.

He wasn't strong, he wasn't tall, and he wasn't overly masculine. In fact, he held very few characteristics that were intrinsic to manhood. When it came to genes, his luck had been very poor. Instead, he was stick-thin, pasty, short, and his eyelashes meant that he had an androgynous look about him.

There was also another feature that needed to be taken into account.

He gripped his hood tighter and his eyes darted from side to side. He knew he was acting like a paranoid fool but he couldn't stop himself. He had to routinely scan his environment. It was a curse he had to live with; he couldn't stand being watched.

Sai noticed his friend's nervousness, but kept his lips firmly pressed together. He disliked bringing up the subject more than once.

'Excuse me, hm.'

The two boys looked up to see another young male, no more than twenty years of age. He was trying to make his way through the aisle of the vehicle to another seat.

Sasori cringed.

The first thing he noticed was an absurd amount of long, blond hair. The second thing he noticed was that this man was the embodiment of everything he despised.

Thick, black kohl lined one of his eyes, the other being concealed by his woefully lopsided fringe. Sasori wasn't entirely sure if he had meant to style it that way or not, but it looked dreadful regardless. His skin was tanned, and his outfit consisted of fitted jeans and a very revealing fishnet shirt. Sasori could see his nipples beneath the material.

It was shameful; he had been blessed in appearance yet he had still resorted to lewd fakery. He looked like a male stripper. It was an insult to the decent people who had not been so lucky.

'Excuse me,' he repeated, gesturing to the bus aisle.

Sasori looked down and noticed that his school satchel was blocking the man's path. Suddenly a little embarrassed, he scooped it up and held it in his lap. The number of homework assignments and text books made this difficult, but he tried to make the motion seem graceful.

The blond stranger gave his thanks with a nod and smile. He then made his way to the back of the bus, sitting down on the opposite side of the vehicle and only a few seats behind Sasori and Sai.

As he passed, the smell of smoke seemed to follow him.

Sasori immediately turned to his friend, his expression one of both shock and disgust. 'Did you see his clothes?' he whispered, outraged.

Sai's brow furrowed. Unlike a normal boy of sixteen, Sasori disliked the "player" image. This was fine, but he always felt the need to express his opinions, even in public. 'You need to get used to it; it's what people wear nowadays.'

'I can't. I have little hope for humanity if people like that are allowed to breed. I'm ashamed of my generation.'

'You always think like that; no wonder you're so depressed. Stop being such a pessimist.'

'Sai, I'm being truthful. That's what life is like. It isn't my fault if everyone else is too ignorant to see how pathetic we're becoming,' grumbled Sasori. 'The human race is deteriorating.'

Sai didn't reply; he couldn't think of anything to say to that. Even if he did manage to think of a valid argument, Sasori would counter it with a testy comment. He was intelligent, cynical, and stubborn beyond belief. Winning any dispute would be nothing short of impossible.

At this point the bus had lumbered to a stop, opening its doors to welcome the newest passengers. A group of students boarded. Their shirts were scruffy, their ties were undone, and there was something about the way they held themselves that suggested nothing but arrogance. One of them held a pack of cigarettes in his left hand.

They began to make their way to the far end of the bus, so as not to be caught messing around by the driver.

To do that though, they had to pass the two boys.

Sasori saw them coming and sunk further into his hoodie. He begged fate not to let them notice him. Sai looked down at his feet, the same desperate plea running through his mind.

But fate is a cold, cruel mistress. They were spotted instantly.

As the students passed, Sasori bore the brunt of their oral onslaught.

'Is that the butters kid you were talking about?' whispered the female of the group. Her bleached hair had been put up in a bun, creating a shell-like structure that sat upon her head. She also wore pink lipstick and fake eyelashes.

One of the boys snickered. 'Yeah,' he said. 'Faggot.'

Sasori heard this but remained silent. He didn't want to provoke them. He felt a burning sensation well up behind his eyes and raised a hand to cover his face. Crying wasn't something he did often; it was contrary to his character. Nevertheless, he couldn't risk anyone seeing him in such a state; not only would he look worse but he would also attract unwanted attention.

Sai opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He was powerless in this situation.

'Fucking pussy,' said the boy. He tapped his cigarette packet with his fingers.

'Hey.'

The cluster of teenagers turned to face the voice. Sasori slowly lifted his head, keeping his hand in place.

It was the stranger from earlier.

Up until now he had been listening to music; headphones were dangling loosely around his neck. The song could still be heard, emerging from the speakers as an unidentifiable buzz. It was most likely a Dubstep track. 'Would you mind keeping it down, hm?' he asked.

The boy's face contorted. 'Piss off.'

'I would but I'm on a moving bus, you dumb fuck,' said the blond, now looking back down at his phone. It was suspiciously expensive-looking for someone of his attire. 'Stop pissing about, hm.'

The posse of students looked taken aback. They were unsure of what to do. They could take on anyone from their school, beating them down either physically or verbally, but a member of the public?

That was a completely different playing field.

Slowly, grudgingly, they backed away, like a pack of dogs that had been cheated out of their sport.

Sasori watched them depart. They took their places at the back of the vehicle, sitting down with their eyes glued to their phones. They were probably using Facebook. Sasori had never seen the point of social websites; to him they were just tools that people used to stir shit up.

He looked to his saviour and scowled. People like that were normally stupid, egotistical, bratty individuals; they held no concern for others. They were only interested in sex, money, drugs, and alcohol. So why had this one come to his aid? It was unlikely that he cared. A more believable explanation would be that he hadn't wanted his music to be interrupted…

The stranger sensed that he was being watched. He flicked his long hair, as if to show it off, and sent Sasori a sidelong, heavy-lidded glance.

Bewildered and disturbed, Sasori scooted closer to the window, his eyes wide. Having never received a look like that before, he found it quite rude and disconcerting, and it made his face hot. He frowned and turned back to Sai.

'You judge too soon, Sasori. Not everyone is as cruel as you think. Have faith.'

Sasori snorted derisively.

Faith in what?

A single good deed would not compensate for a life of bad decisions.

That blond had probably dropped out of school. There was also a good chance that he had abandoned his pregnant girlfriend. That was his type; reckless, flirtatious, and irresponsible.

By now the bus had arrived at its next stop. Sai rose from his seat, gathering his rucksack and black umbrella as he did so. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' he said.

Sasori gave him a nod of acknowledgement. He watched his friend leave, and then turned to stare out of the window once more. It would be quieter now but he secretly preferred that; social interaction was strenuous.

Moreover, it wouldn't be long until he came to his own stop.

In fact, it only took another twenty minutes. That was good; he hated waiting.

Sighing, he stood and hauled his satchel onto his shoulder. The weight caused his small frame to lean a little to the right and made movement tough.

Fortunately the bus stopped directly outside his house and he wouldn't have to carry his belongings far.

He made his way to the exit, one hand holding his hood in place.

'You dropped something, hm.'

Sasori turned to see the stranger, who motioned to the floor.

A book had fallen from Sasori's satchel. It was an art book, thick and slightly gnarled around the edges; a sign that it was well-used. Dots of paint were scattered along the front cover, a splodge of red partially covering the name tag.

Sasori hastily bent down to pick it up, muttering a "thank you" under his breath as he did so.

The stranger nodded and watched the young boy step off of the bus.

Without fully realising it, and as sometimes happens, he memorised the location of Sasori's house, as well as several other trivial details. The roof needed re-shingling and a wooden birdhouse had been placed on the front lawn. A post-box resided outside the building, its paint peeling due to age. His eyes wandered to one of the windows.

Two silhouettes could be seen and, judging from their aggressive body language, they appeared to be in an argument.

Shrugging it off as a family quarrel, he plugged in his headphones once more. He smiled, enjoying the rays of sunlight.

It was none of his business.

The bus set off again, and he began to nod his head in time with the beat.

* * *

_I've had this in mind for a long time. It's going to be quite...personal for me in some ways, and I wanted to share it with you. I decided a while ago to take all my negative thoughts and feelings, and turn them into something positive, something that can be enjoyed. The result was this. :) _

_I'm going to try and stop the major OOC in this one. XD_

_I do hope you liked it. :)_

_Love ya. :D_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, Akatsuki or any of the characters/concepts featured. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.**

* * *

It was hideous, utterly hideous.

It's ugliness was off the scale.

And the worst part, the part that hurt Sasori more than anything, was the fact that _he_ had created it.

He was responsible for giving birth to it, for bringing it into the world.

Alright, the world was pretty crappy already, but that was no excuse to _add_ to it.

Groaning, he shut his art book and pushed his chair as far from his desk as possible. He couldn't bear to look anymore; his work was a shitty monstrosity.

It deserved to burn in a fiery inferno.

He gave a shaky sigh and covered his face with his hands. Heat spread through his body as he tried to calm himself down and he clawed at his own cheeks.

This happened every evening.

From seven onwards, sometimes until midnight, he would attempt to create something worthy of praise. He would barricade himself in his bedroom and forcibly beat his creativity over and over again. He would sit alone and struggle, pushing and pushing until his mind collapsed in on itself.

It was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone.

He knew he was capable of so much more, but his passion had vanished and nothing could get him in the mood, not even Yankee candles.

Perhaps it was the assignment itself; he had been given the debilitating task of drawing an onion. As it was, the odd little vegetable sat next to him, shedding it's skin everywhere and being a pain in the arse.

Sasori glared at it.

He was sick and tired of drawing such bland, uninspiring objects. He had taken Art on the understanding that he would enjoy the subject, that he would be able to learn and gain something from it.

Instead it had drained him.

He held no feeling for it anymore.

'Fuck this,' he whispered, angrily, his voice cracking. 'Fuck this shit...'

Unlike most teenagers, he hardly ever cursed out loud; it was rude and forbidden, but right now he simply didn't care.

He fell to pieces, kicking his desk and forcibly hurling the onion at his wardrobe.

Art had been his one escape route! It had been his way out of life! They had robbed him of his spark!

'Fuck you! Fuck you all!' he hissed, bitterly. Then he slumped in his chair, defeated and broken.

At least his grandmother and grand-uncle, Chiyo and Ebizō, were no longer around to hear him swear; they had left the house after their argument, probably to play Thursday's Bingo session.

They always argued and they always left. Even now, at ten o'clock, they had still not returned.

Sasori ran his fingers through his hair. He had no choice; he'd have to just give up and retire for the night. Nothing was going to be accomplished in the next two hours and sleeping gave him a chance to forget his troubles.

He exited the room, avoiding his wall mirror as he did so.

He loathed mirrors and he resented Chiyo's decision to get him one.

After all, why would he want to see himself?

He was just as repulsive and boring as his artwork and, without his hoodie, his crimson hair stuck out like a sore thumb.

It was because of this that he didn't bother to turn on the light in the kitchen; he didn't want to deal with the negativity.

So, enveloped by darkness, he went straight to the fridge, helping himself to a small glass of milk. He then stood at the back window, looking out into the garden and suckling like a baby lamb. Everything outside was cloaked in blackness and misery, and the trees were nothing more than giant, feathery silhouettes.

A police car could be heard in the distance, sirens wailing.

Sasori rolled his eyes.

Typical.

The criminal would probably be given a year in jail. Then he or she would be released and allowed to wreak havoc again.

And the authorities would wonder where the hell they'd gone wrong...

Strangely though, the car drew nearer and nearer, until flashes of blue and red sprung over his garden fence.

Sasori narrowed his eyes and set down his glass in slow-motion.

He hadn't expected the vehicle to drive so close. It was no more than a few houses away from his own; dogs were barking and he could practically hear the officers shouting at one another.

It was at this point that the doorbell rang.

Thinking his grandparents had finally returned, he got up to answer it. They'd probably explain what was going on.

But, as he opened the door, it became apparent that this wasn't the case.

There, on his porch, keeled over and panting, was the shadow of someone entirely different.

They were leaning against the doorframe, too exhausted to stand on their own two feet, and their long hair drooped over their shoulders, a complete mess.

They had been running, and a great distance too no doubt.

Sasori found himself paralysed, rooted to the spot by fear. He stared straight ahead with wide eyes, his mind wiped blank; he had no idea how to react.

The figure, clearly male, took a deep breath and coughed twice before looking up. Their expression was dazed and pleading, and their voice was punctuated by gasps.

'Please...please, kid, you gotta let me in, hm.'

* * *

_This part was short, but I hope you enjoyed. The next will be longer, don't worry. :D_

_Reviews are greatly appreciated, and I love ya! :3_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, Akatsuki or any of the characters/concepts featured. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.**

* * *

Sasori hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound emerged. His bottom lip quivered.

This bizarre scenario had completely flawed him.

Fed up with waiting, the stranger simply pushed past, kicking the door shut with his heel. He then drunkenly stumbled down the dark hallway towards the kitchen.

'Can I use your phone? Cheers, hm.'

Sasori snapped back to reality.

All of a sudden he was petrified, so much so that he couldn't even scream. He was caught between the canine police unit and a possible murderer in his kitchen. Both were social situations.

And he was terrified of dogs.

It was like something from a nightmare; he was having trouble believing it.

He turned to see the intruder fumbling with the telephone. Said device was positioned next to the kitchen doorway, meaning Sasori had an excellent view of everything that was going on.

The man was hissing and cursing, and he angrily slammed his palm over the light switch. This illuminated the room and Sasori identified his visitor.

It was the blond stripper, the one that had helped him on the bus, only this time he didn't seem as kind or as level-headed. In fact, he was living up to Sasori's initial judgement.

The words he used were so angry, and so malicious, that Sasori felt sympathy for the recipient.

'No, Itachi, I didn't burn the whole thing! Fuck you! ...No, they didn't see my face, but I need you to pick me up... What do you mean you don't give a shit? I just ran cross country, you bastard!'

Sasori cowered in the shadows of the doorway, frightened. His whole body was shaking and he could feel blood surging through his veins. His palms were sweaty and he drew himself up onto the balls of his feet.

The stranger sighed in defeat.

'Fine, I owe you a pack of Haribo, hm... The house on the corner, the one with the postbox out front; be here in ten.'

He set down the phone and looked around, taking in his surroundings properly. The kitchen was quaint but nothing special; a few bowls here and there, a sink, and a discarded glass of milk. Eventually his eyes landed on Sasori, who had withdrawn further into the shadows of the hallway, hunched over with his hands clasped.

'Yo, name's Deidara, hm.'

No response.

Deidara shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He wasn't used to dealing with timidity. 'Uh...you can come out. I mean, I know this looks bad and all, but I swear I'm not that kind of guy, hm...'

But Sasori was too busy formulating a plan. If he wanted to live, he would need power, and power came in the form of weapons.

Unfortunately, the only "weapons" in the house were in the cutlery draw, which was situated across the room. It was risky, but if he could make it past his foe, he'd be able to grab one and defend himself. Then he could call the police over and put the whole incident behind him, maybe even get featured in the local paper.

Not that fame mattered.

There was just one small problem; he'd have to step into the light and reveal himself, including his hair.

He took a small, tentative step forward.

Deidara grinned and flicked his wrist in a beckoning motion. 'That's it, hm. Come on; I ain't gonna hurt you...'

Sasori took another step, a little bolder this time. His heart was in his mouth and his eyes were wide. With a third step, he was enveloped in the light of the kitchen.

And, as predicted, Deidara's grin vanished.

Sasori braced himself for an insult.

Now, most things in life are a matter of perspective. Every being on the planet has a different outlook, different thoughts and feelings. No two people are the same.

And it was because of this small fact that Sasori didn't quite get the abuse he had been expecting.

Deidara believed he was looking at someone beautiful.

He saw Sasori in simple terms; a boy, short and slender, with a pale complexion.

He saw a face as well, one that was rounded but not overly so, with two cheeks and a delicate nose to match.

He saw a pair of "doe" eyes; large, mocha, and vulnerable.

He saw hair.

It was a messy style, unkempt but in loveable way. Each lock was a lucid crimson and together they seemed to flicker, depending on the viewing angle. They shimmered from scarlet to auburn, and then to a deep chestnut-burgundy.

No dye could be so vivid and no wig could be so silky.

It was like fire.

So Deidara switched on his charm.

He smirked and clicked his tongue.

'Hey, bae, hm.'

Sasori glared at him; the only thing worse than a direct insult, was mockery. He loathed insincere compliments; people knew he wasn't attractive, so they tormented him with lies.

It was time to make his move.

He roughly barged past Deidara, launching himself at the cutlery draw. There was an awful clatter as he looked through it, grabbing the sharpest knife he could find. Then he turned to his foe, brandishing it.

Deidara was recovering slowly, his palm pressed to his temple. 'Shit, why would you do that, hm?'

He was answered by a quick knife jab, which he only just managed to avoid.

'Hey, watch it, hm! Li'l ball of rage! Jeez!'

Sasori swished the blade back and forth, slashing wildly at the air. He pictured himself as a noble warrior, or a Resident Evil agent, but in reality he was completely uncoordinated. After about a minute of random flailing, Deidara managed to catch his wrist, disarming him in the process. The knife hit the floor and he screeched indignantly, panic setting in.

A hand was clamped over his mouth.

'Woah! Kid, calm the fuck down, hm! I ain't gonna hurt you!'

Sasori squirmed violently, his cheeks red from strain and his chest palpitating. He felt like a mouse caught in the paws of a cat. Everything was a blur and his mind was spinning like a deranged carousel. He could smell smoke again, and oh good Lord, where had those hands had been?

He began to hyperventilate.

'Hey, hey, deep breaths, hm,' whispered Deidara. 'Come on, in and out, in and out...'

Sasori's struggling gradually died down until he was merely glaring at his captor. Deidara offered him a weak smile.

'You gonna bite me if I let go, hm?'

Sasori gave him a bored look; such a thing would be so unhygienic. Getting the message, the blond retracted his hand.

'Right, now we're cool, hm...'

Sasori lunged for the phone, but it was wrenched from his grasp.

'No, no, no, hm! You can't have that; I'll get in trouble...'

Sasori pursed his lips. He was trapped; there were no more options. His attack had back-fired and now he was defenceless, like a snail without a shell. Oddly though, Deidara didn't strike. Instead he spoke passively, placing the phone on the kitchen counter.

'Look, I get you're freaking out and shit, but I would really appreciate a bit of help here. I helped you, right? So what I thought was you could return the favour... You see where I'm going with this, hm?'

Sasori stared at him, suspicious but somewhat calmed by his tone of voice. He didn't sound like a killer; he sounded like a normal member of the public, save for the repetition of "hm".

Deidara took a deep breath. 'I just need to hide for a bit, that's all. I'm not gonna steal anything, I'm not gonna kill you, and I'm not gonna rape you, hm.'

Although, the last part of that sentence did seem quite tempting. After all, Deidara had never met anyone this good-looking before. However, judging from the boy's jittery disposition, he knew it wasn't wise to mention this, even in a playful sense.

So instead he asked;

'Do you have any beer, hm?'

Sasori blinked, shocked by the simplicity of the question. Deidara didn't wait for an answer and began trawling through the cupboards and the fridge.

'Man, you sure do like your milk, hm...'

Sasori managed to produce a single syllable.

'I...'

Deidara looked over his shoulder and grinned. 'So you do talk? Are your folks home?'

'No...'

'Cool, hm. Otherwise I'd be fucked.'

'We...we don't have alcohol...'

'Anything other than milk?'

'There's Coke in the top cupboard...'

'Sweet, hm,' said Deidara, helping himself to a can. He threw it up and caught it once, before finally opening it and leaning back against the counter. He downed the whole thing in a few gulps.

Sasori watched from a safe distance, stunned and fascinated at the same time. Things like Coke and Fanta burnt his throat, so he wasn't sure why Chiyo had purchased them in the first place.

Deidara liked it though.

The blond lowered the can with a sigh of appreciation and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'So...how're you doing?'

Sasori couldn't believe what he was hearing; a criminal had infiltrated his property just to start polite conversation.

'Oh come on,' teased Deidara. 'You were talking a moment ago, hm. Are you the shy type?'

'I'm not shy, I'm...introverted.'

Deidara laughed. It was a loud, boyish laughter, and it echoed around the room. In his mouth, Sasori caught a fleeting glimpse of something shiny and metallic, with two black beads attached. It appeared to be part of his tongue.

A piercing?

Sasori curled his upper lip in disgust; he had nothing against self-expression but in this case it was just far too cliché.

Then Deidara said something very stupid.

'You have Facebook, hm?'

That struck a nerve.

'I'm pleased to say I do not.'

Deidara blinked. Everyone had Facebook; it was a vast web that connected the entire planet.

'Why not?'

Sasori may have been frightened but that didn't mean he'd skip the chance to lecture an idiot.

'Because it's pointless, deceptive, damaging, and completely over-run with vain women.'

Deidara sucked in his cheeks, both eyebrows raised. He hadn't been expecting such a testy response. Luckily for this kid, he liked his lovers to be stubborn and fiery.

'Then can I get your number, hm?'

Sasori slowly narrowed his eyes, glaring at him. The look was so hostile, and so bitter, and so downright cruel, that Deidara shrank back a little.

'Uh...Skype, hm?'

'Get out.'

'Kik?'

'Out, or I'll call the police.'

'Okay, okay, steady on,' mumbled Deidara, sounding a little deflated. 'I'm going, I'm going, hm...'

He wandered off down the hallway towards the front door, Sasori hot on his tail. As he passed the coat rack, he noticed the boy's blazer hanging up, the school emblem on show. He had roughly two seconds to study it before he was ushered away again.

'Hey, how about E-mail, hm? Come on, everyone has an E-mail address-'

'Get out of my house!'

Deidara laughed uneasily and backed out into the cold night air, his hands raised in fake surrender. Thankfully the police had directed their attention further up the street.

Sasori scowled.

Deidara's palms had been inked. Both tattoos were positively grotesque; two mouths, wide-open with their tongues waving. The detail was extraordinary; he looked like a mutant, and they grinned as his tendons flexed.

There was skidding sound by the curb and both males looked over to investigate.

A shabby black car had pulled up under one of the street lamps. It was nothing too impressive, actually having a rather large dent near the door, and the tires desperately needed a wash.

Deidara looked at Sasori one last time and winked.

'Catch you later, hm.'

Then, just like that, he left.

He hurtled down the garden path and vaulted the brick wall at the bottom in an attempt to show off. He opened the front door of the vehicle, sliding himself into the passenger seat, and a slam was heard before the car pulled away, headlights beaming.

But Deidara kept fidgeting and looking back.

He wasn't going to let this go; his heart had officially been stolen. He didn't even know the name of his Juliet, only that he attended the Suna College of Art and Design.

He had never expected the boy to be so hot.

'Fuck, hm...'

'So who is it this time? A lucky girl or a lucky guy?' asked Itachi, his eyes focused on the road.

He was a tall, lean, dark-haired lad, with an extra year of knowledge and a mellow countenance. Deidara despised him.

'Piss off, Itachi. I only called you 'cause no one else was at the parlour. Anyway, why do you always think I've met someone, hm?'

'One, you have that dreamy look, two, you keep looking back at that house, and three, you have yet to call me a bastard-'

'Bastard, hm.'

'There we go,' said Itachi, pushing down on the pedal and turning a corner. 'Now, we're going to Tesco-'

'Dude, it's nearly eleven o'clock.'

'...I want my Haribo.'

* * *

_Hopefully I've raised a few questions. XD I hope you enjoyed, and a huge thank you to everyone who has stuck with me so far. Love you all. :3_


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